


They Worked You Over Good

by Sharonfofaron



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Big Brothers, Brother Feels, Brotherhood, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, M/M, Protective Older Brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 13:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharonfofaron/pseuds/Sharonfofaron
Summary: A one-shot in which Nathan is actually really hurt during the initial prison-fight, but does the climb to the prison cell anyway to make his brother happy, and Sam is incredibly worried about him. Because I can't get the adorable sound of Sam asking his baby brother "You all right?" out of my head. Lots of brotherly fluff and love, as only Nathan and Sam can do it.Also, has anyone else noticed that while everyone else calls Nathan 'Nate' sometimes, Sam only ever calls him Nathan? I like to think it's a throwback to how Sam's basically had to be Nathan's parent, because that's what a parent would do, too. <3





	They Worked You Over Good

Sam Drake looked up from where he was bent over to see his younger brother, Nathan, looking down at him. "Lo siento, chicos," he murmured with a throaty voice to the men he was gambling with, rising slowly and gathering his winnings. "Tengo que irme." He threw a few cigarettes down lightly as recompense for his exit, and heard pleased noises from the men as he walked away to be with his brother, putting the last cigarette up to his mouth and lighting it. 

That cigarette became moot when he saw the bruises on Nathan's face. "Jeeeeee-SUS, they worked you over good. You all right?" he asked in a low, worried voice, cigarette lit but forgotten. 

He completely dropped the cigarette when he saw that his brother's face was creased in pain. Nathan was clenching his jaw so tightly, he could barely get words out, and he was clenching his fists at his sides, looking down at the ground. "Broken ribs. We gotta go--" he eked out between his teeth, barely even looking at Sam. Sam's concern tripled, but he was quick to act, keeping his voice calm and neutral and light in the same way that one would try to keep a nervous dog calm. "Okay, okay, it's okay little brother, I'll get Rafe and we'll go," he said, his eyes fixed on his brother's face. He put his hand on Nathan's shoulder very gently to lead him, not wanting the other prisoners to see that something was wrong, and started trying to guide his stiff-as-a-board brother away. Nathan was absolutely radiating tension; Sam could feel it in his fingers, and felt his own heart race increase. His little brother...

"Just walk carefully, all right, slow and smooth. We're getting out of here, you're all right..." he kept talking like that, murmuring "just a little farther" and "you're still okay, Nathan, I gotcha" over and over again, letting his fingers slightly rub Nathan's shoulder in a soft attempt to distract him. "It's okay..."

Rafe wasn't far, since the prison yard was fairly small. His face grew more and more serious as he saw Sam's. 

"Nathan's hurt," Sam said quietly, still rubbing his brother's shoulder with one hand and holding the other one gently around his lower back. "Get Vargas, we gotta go." He could hear Nathan's shallow breathing, little hisses and sips of air that sounded painful and unpleasant and, to a big brother, very very scary. It was actually a relief to be telling someone else, even if it was Rafe; Sam could let some of the stress out on another person. He wasn't sure how much longer he could be there for Nathan without freaking out. 

That relief was eclipsed by Rafe's next sentence. "Did he find anything?"

Sam gaped at him for a second, shocked by the insensitive response, then glared. "Jesus fucking CHRIST, Rafe, he's HURT--" he hissed, when his brother interrupted weakly.

"Y-yes," Nate gasped in a tiny whisper "yes--"

Rafe considered him, and Sam thought he saw some pity in the rich boy's eyes. More importantly, he looked like he believed him. "All right. Let's go." 

It was an almost-unbearably tense walk to Vargas--and then through obscure prison tunnels--for Sam. Nathan was crying now--he could literally SEE his little brother crying, with tears pouring down his face, even though he was breathing too shallowly to sob--and all Sam could do was keep comforting him. What he wouldn't give for some morphine. 

"Almost there, Nathan, almost there. It's okay, baby brother, you're gonna be okay--I gotcha--" He kept talking like that, in a soft, high voice, and he could see Nathan nodding once in a while to his words faintly between the tears, footsteps getting less steady as the pain increased. Rafe and Vargas were quiet, as if they thought noise would make Nathan feel worse and were trying to be considerate--Vargas liked Nathan, actually, and visibly felt bad for him, while Rafe mostly looked uncomfortable, like a grumpy teenager who'd been thrown by a surprisingly emotional family function. He (very, very, very secretly) liked Nathan, even though Nathan didn't really seem to like HIM, and half of him worried for the guy while the other half wanted to smack the first half for being a sentimental wimp. 

Sam kept murmuring what little comfort he could to his brother as they neared the exit of the tunnel. "Look, Nathan, there it is, it's green outside, see that? We're almost there, alllllllmost there little brother" he said as they stepped outside. Nathan faltered at the exit, which required a small step down to the ground. Sam took a breath of his own, and swallowed hard, extremely reluctant to make his brother do it but knowing they didn't have a choice. Carrying him would be a two-man job--and the discomfort on Rafe's face told Sam that he'd probably actually be willing to do it, if it made this end any faster--but the angle would most likely hurt Nathan's ribs more, or worse. 

"Come on, Nathan, you can do it," he said, and felt himself almost start to cry when Nate let out a heart-wrenching moan as he stepped down for his big brother. They stood still for a moment, letting Nate collect himself.

"The boat is down there," Vargas whispered, pointing down with a pitying look on his face. Sam looked at the mudslide further ahead, face falling. Nathan was too busy trying not to breathe and staring at his brother's shoes to see the problem. 

"He can't get down there!" Rafe hissed at Vargas, dismayed despite himself. "He'll land in the water, that should be fine--" Vargas said weakly, but even he didn't look convinced. "It's as close as I could get it," he added, and Sam heard the guilt in his voice. It wasn't Vargas's fault, so he didn't throw any blame his way. 

Rafe apparently heard the guilt too, and sighed. "Okay. Let's just bind him up to help with it first then. There's morphine on the boat, right?"

"Yes," Vargas said. "There's lots of drug wars in the water, so they keep serious medical supplies on the boats, for gunshot wounds." Sam sagged in relief. "You hear that, Nathan?" he said quickly, smiling despite the situation. He gave his brother's shoulder a bracing squeeze, getting Nathan's pain-riddled eyes to meet his for a second, and nodded towards the boat. "Your medicine's right down there. You're gonna feel better in just a COUPLE minutes, Nathan, I promise." Nathan smiled faintly, and tried to say something, but cringed in pain. Another set of tears squeezed down his face, and Sam's heart clenched. "COME on, Nathan, come on," he said lightheartedly, re-squeezing Nate's shoulder and impressing even himself with how cheery and positive he sounded "I still gotcha. It's right down there, we're just going down, okay? Just downhill from here. You won't even have to walk."

Nate gulped visibly, tears still falling. Seeing his ever-upbeat, positive, and chatty brother crying, trembling, and SILENT was absolutely shaking Sam to his core. He remembered again just how young Nathan was, just how young they BOTH were. Nathan was barely even old enough to drink, but he was here in so much pain--here for SAM--for his big brother--

Sam swallowed again and felt tears starting to fill his own eyes. If Nathan died--

That thought made him panic, and his chest surged with air as he straightened himself and refocused briskly, slamming the lid down on the thought. "Rafe." He spoke quickly and firmly, trying to finish this before that panic came back, and Rafe looked at him surprisingly attentively, clearly hearing the authority in his voice and respecting it. "Tie his ribs with your shirt." 

Rafe immediately took off the over-shirt of his prison uniform and stepped over to bind it. "Sorry, Nate, sorry--" he said, sounding genuinely upset in his apology as Nathan groaned and then actually WHIMPERED as the knot was tied. He jerked in Sam's grip, trying to move away from the hands near his ribs, and Sam held him tighter around his shoulders. "Easy, Nathan, EAAAASY, you're okay," he repeated, as if calming a frightened horse. "I'm here, Nathan, I'm here," he kept saying as he lifted one of his own arms for Rafe, who had gestured that he needed his shirt, too. Once Rafe had that sleeve off, Sam lifted the other one for him--but only after re-holding Nate with the free hand again. Nate could definitely NOT stand on his own--and as soon as Rafe had gotten the shirt, Sam was back to holding his baby brother tightly again. 

"Almost done, Nathan, the medicine's RIGHT down there. You're gonna be fine, think of all the times I'm gonna let you GUILT-trip me because of this, huh?" He smiled a little, and Nathan's clenched mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile for a second. Sam immediately regretted the joke, though, because Nathan started trying to talk--

"No no no, Nathan, don't talk, don't talk--Come on--" Rafe had finished the second shirt's binding now, despite another whimper from Nate "okay, we're just SLIIIIDING down now, little brother, just sliding down, I won't let go of you, all right?" 

"Thanks, Vargas," Rafe said quickly, sensing from Nate's ever-growing pallor that time was running out. "Take care of that kid," Vargas said, sounding sincere, and Sam would have given him a glance of gratitude if he hadn't been too busy fighting back panic. "Rafe, go down first to get him on."

Rafe didn't even hesitate, sliding down the mudslide and landing in the water without so much as a 'whoop'. 

"I'll hold you, Nathan, come on. Hard part's over--" he wasn't lying, the hard part WAS over, and Nathan must have been able to sense that reality because Sam saw a little light come back into his tear-filled eyes "Down we go--"

It only took a little nudge--and a LOT of Sam holding Nathan as tightly as he'd ever held anything--to get them to slide down the mudslide together in a pair, Sam's biceps flexing for all they were worth as he held Nate straight and steady. Nathan didn't even make any noise, which freaked Sam out even further--Nathan LOVED mudslides, usually, and couldn't resist some 'Alley-oops'--and he only remembered to tell Nathan "hold your breath!" right before they hit the water. 

Nathan was still a little smaller and rangier than Sam, but that didn't make it any easier for Sam to swim with him. In the water, he felt like dead weight, and it was only adrenaline that helped Sam gimp their way through the waves to the boat, gasping out "Almost there, Nathan" for a second before giving up and focusing on swimming. Rafe was already laying down on the boat's stern, reaching for them, and Sam couldn't help a grin from forming as he saw that Rafe was already holding a filled syringe. He'd clearly thought ahead, and discerned that the pain was about to make Nate pass out. 

Sam held the barely-conscious Nate up as best he could for Rafe to inject the morphine into his arm, growing even more concerned by the realization that the shock of the cold water hadn't been enough to keep Nathan from fading. 

Nathan's face was tense for a moment still, as the drug started filling his veins and making his chest feel hot and tight, but it immediately settled into a pain-relieving haze. Rafe was already pulling him on board, with Sam treading water after he'd helped with his legs, and Sam didn't think he ever done anything faster than the way he mounted the boat and raced over to his supine brother now. 

"Nathan. Nathan!" He clutched his brother's face, and gasped a huge breath of relief when he saw that Nate's eyes were a little more open. "Holy SH-SHIT, Nathan, you're gonna give me a heart attack," he gasped, letting his head sag against Nathan's neck for a second before quickly looking back up at him. "Better now? You feel better?" 

Nathan nodded, his smile a real albeit small one now, and Sam felt his own grin start spreading. Even Rafe was smiling, as he sat down on Nathan's other side. 

"Better," Nate whispered, smiling still "Definitely. Better." 

"Let's get out of here, all right?" Rafe said, actually sounding nice again, and Nathan met his eyes. "Yeah." He actually gave Rafe a smile, and Sam thought he saw Rafe blush. 

"Okay. Okay," Sam said, taking more deep breaths. "Whew. You scared the living SHIT out of me, little brother. Don't do that again." His voice actually broke a little, as he held Nathan's head and kissed his forehead, trembling. Nathan still had tears on his cheeks, and looked up at Sam like he was manna from heaven. "S-sorry."

Sam laughed wetly. "Don't be sorry, Nathan. Just don't do it again. Jesus," he laughed again, touching his forehead to Nate's, "we might have to start going to church again, little brother." 

"Don't f-forget," Nate added weakly, voice just a little stronger, "we also have to go see l-lemurs."

Sam looked at him, confused, and Nate grinned. "You s-said I could guilt-tt-trip you. I wanna see l-lemurs." 

Sam laughed hard at that, partly from the sheer euphoria of his brother getting better, before kissing his brother's forehead again. "Shit, did I say that? Nathan, you know I hate rodents."

"Mice," Nate said huskily, smiling, "y-you hate m-mice."

"Lemurs are just bigger mice with tails and creepier eyes," Sam retorted sardonically. "Sam," Rafe called over from the wheel, the engine thrumming under his feet "when you two are done discussing the merits of vermin, you should probably bind up his ribs with something better than our PRISON uniforms." 

Sam gave Rafe a grin, the man's previous insensitivity forgotten in the face of his newer considerations. "All right, all right. Let's see." He looked around, seeing the closed first-aid box--of course it was closed; Rafe always kept things prim and proper, Sam thought with somewhat-affectionate amusement--and leaned towards it to pull it closer, still loath to let go of his brother. 

"Don't dr-drop that on me," Nate murmured, eyes fully open now and smile staying. Sam's own grin felt like it would make his face break. And he was starting to feel absolutely exhausted. 

"Who, me Nathan? Never!"

"You dr-dropped a box on my sprained ankle when I was s-seven." 

"Psh." Sam scoffed. "That's nothing but hearsay. Don't listen to him, Rafe. It's not true." Rafe looked over, smiling despite himself. He liked these guys--but he'd go to his grave before admitting it. 

"Y-yes it is," Nate breathed, laughing just a little. 

"I only dropped it because I sneezed. I have allergies, remember?"

"Allergies, and you're scared of mice," Rafe suddenly chimed in, with Sam looking over at him, and Nathan looking up in his general direction without moving his head. "What are you, a ninety-year-old woman?"

Nate laughed at that, making Rafe feel warm and fuzzy inside, and Sam gasped with fake offense. "You know, that hurts my feelings, Rafe!" he retorted as he took out the bandages. "Okay, Nathan, come on. You're gonna have to work with me here." 

It only took a few minutes--and a little more morphine--before Nathan was properly bandaged and relatively comfortable. The St. Dismas cross had been moved over to the side, ignored for now. Sam made a little pillow of the shirts and gently out them under him, trying to keep his head off the boat deck, and Nate winced. "That good, huh Nathan?" he asked knowingly, rubbing his brother's head affectionately. "Let's just say we're springing for a nice hotel room when this is all over," Nate groaned good-naturedly in response. 

"Speaking of which..." Rafe's voice made them look up. He looked...sheepish, or something, and Sam's focus sharpened. "Rafe?" 

"I..." Rafe shrugged, looking like a genuinely nice, normal person for a second, before the defensive shadow came back over his face and he threw up his hands. "Look, since Nathan's out of commission for a little while, we can just wait on the treasure hunt." 

He said it fast, in his normal snippy tone, but Nathan and Sam both heard it for what it was. Rafe was being nice. He was forgoing his 400 million-dollar reward to give someone time to heal--and that realization made Nate actually make the effort to turn his head enough to look at him. Seeing that happy, surprised little-boy expression on Nate's face, and the appreciative one on Sam's, made Rafe blush enough to turn back around to the wheel. 

"Huh," Sam whispered to Nate as Nate turned his attention back to him, "Look at that. Apparently all it takes is some broken ribs."

"Don't remind me," Nathan groaned, shifting his head again, and Sam immediately moved to rearrange his makeshift pillow. "Better?"

Nathan nodded with a smile. "Better. Thanks, Sammy."

Sam smiled, and ruffled his baby brother's head again. Nathan almost never called him that, unless he was sleepy or sick. Sometimes he'd called him that when he'd been sad about Mom, too. Nathan was by far the ONLY one who could call Sam 'Sammy', just like how Sam was the ONLY one who could ruffle Nathan's head. 

"Whew. I feel like I've aged a thousand years. And I'm only twenty-fucking-six." Sam let out a dramatic sigh. "You're gonna be the death of me, little brother." 

"Actually-" Nate laughed faintly, the sunshine drying the tears off his face "I think lemurs will."

"Dammit. I'm hoping you're just gonna forget about that."

Nate laughed again. "Not a chance." 

Sam kissed his forehead again in a burst of affection, still not forgetting the panic he'd felt in his chest. His hand still on his baby brother's cheek, he felt his accent thicken as he started joking. "Lemurs are literally mice up in the sky, Nathan. I can't HANDLE mice in the sky."

"There's also flying squirrels--"

"Do NOT tell me about flying squirrels." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three hours later, Nathan was far more comfortable, Rafe was taking a nap in the driver's seat--elegantly, as only Rafe could--and Sam was still stuck like glue to the brother beside him. 

"Nice night," Sam said, looking up at the stars over the water. "Hey." Nate looked up at him from where his head was in Sam's lap. "You let me know when you need more morphine, a'right?" 

Nate smiled. "Yeah." 

A minute later, Sam spoke again. 

"Hey." Nate looked back up at him, and Sam's heart felt like it swelled. He abruptly leaned forward and kissed Nathan's forehead again, keeping a hand on his cheek and holding his head bracingly with the other. "You know how much I love you, little brother? You got ANY idea?"

Nate's eyes shone in the starlight as he stared up at his brother, whose face was shining under the moon. "Yeah," he said, smiling, and reached up and put his own hand around the one on his cheek. "Because I love you just as much." 

Sam kissed his brother's forehead again, tears unexpectedly coming from the day they'd had, and they both wept for a minute before Sam straightened. "A'right, little brother," he said, trying to regain some composure. "What're the odds Panamanian pirates got any beer?"


End file.
